


Awake

by Little Spoon (AlwaysTheLittleSpoon)



Series: Occasionally Domestic [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frustrated Stiles, Insomnia, M/M, Sleepy Derek, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysTheLittleSpoon/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Stiles is home from New York for the winter holidays, and he can't fall asleep alone. Maybe he's been a little spoiled.





	

Stiles couldn’t sleep. He was stretched out on his back, one hand behind his head, the other resting on his chest, and one knee bent under the covers. It wasn’t a full moon, which meant no wolfy business, but there was enough light that shadows danced across his ceiling. It was equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying, but only because he was in the know. He knew what sulked and hid in the shadows.

Outside his window, branches creaked and groaned, long spindling limbs scratching against the side of the house like fingers. The quiet had never bothered Stiles before. Not until shortly after his fifteenth birthday and he convinced Scott to go looking for a dead body in the woods. It’s different now. He’s different now.

After a year and a half living in a small loft apartment in New York, one that he could never have afforded, the eerie silence of Beacon Hills was as unsettling as the empty place in bed beside him. He jumped at every tap against the window, every creak of the house, and every soft snorted snore from his father across the hall.

As awesome as it was to be home, and lord knew he missed his dad, Stiles hasn’t slept alone since the night before his high school graduation, the day he hopped in a car and never looked back, at least, until now. Back then, Malia had made a habit of sneaking into his bed and spooning him whether he wanted her to or not, which hadn’t changed even after they broke up. Eventually, he’d given up trying to explain boundaries to her.

But Stiles hasn’t been home since he tripped over his gown walking across the stage and accepted his diploma. His dad had flown out to New York for Christmas last year, and taken a well-deserved vacation during the summer to visit for a month. 

Columbia kept him busy. That’s the excuse Stiles was going with.

Groaning, Stiles rolled onto his stomach, arm dangling off the edge of the mattress, and stared at the clock. The red glow of his digital clock mocked him as the numbers ticked over from 3:08 to 3:09. He’d officially been lying awake waiting for sleep to club him over the head for the last four hours.

Stiles huffed, calling it in, and crawled out of bed.

Throwing on his favourite red hoodie, zero fucks given to his current wardrobe choice of faded flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt that didn’t even belong to him, Stiles pocketed the keys to his Jeep. He snuck down the stairs, skipping the squeaky third step from the bottom, and stole out the front door, careful to lock it behind him.

The engine stuttered for a moment but roared to life after a little tender coaxing and a bit of pleading that he would later deny. At least Scott had kept his promise to take care of his baby. Good old Roscoe. He affectionately patted the dashboard before he reversed out of the driveway. His baby had never let him down, but there wasn’t much use for a vehicle in New York. He’d handed Scott the keys in the high school parking lot while still wearing his graduation cap. No one drove in the city. Still, he missed his Jeep.

The streets were empty. No real shock at three in the morning. Stiles hummed to himself, drumming against the steering wheel as he made the twenty-minute drive across town. He briefly gave Parrish a wave and a cheeky wink as he passed the deputy parked on the side of the road.

Night shifts sucked. Stiles could remember his dad desperate to take any shift he could just to make ends meet. There had been more than one night that he put himself to bed or thrown a blanket over his dad passed out on the couch before he hit the age of twelve.

Stiles climbed the painfully familiar stairs to Derek’s old loft. The former alpha still owned the building, and Stiles knew that from time to time, the packed used it as a haven like Stiles was tonight.

The door groaned as Stiles slid it open. Moonlight spilt through the enormous windows that made up the far wall, flooding the room with enough light from him to navigate the sparsely furnished room as he trekked to the bed tucked out of sight behind one of the large pillars.

Derek lay on his stomach, one hand tucked under his pillow while the other reached from the empty space in the bed beside him. Stiles stood at the foot of the bed, watching the werewolf sleep. Satisfied that Derek was indeed asleep, he shucked his hoodie, dropping it on the floor beside the bed, fully intent on crawling into the empty space beside the sleeping werewolf.

“Stiles?” Derek propped himself up on an elbow and blinked tiredly at Stiles as he scratched at his bare chest and yawned. “I thought you were staying at your dad’s tonight. What are you doing here?”

Caught in the act, Stiles froze, hunched over with one knee on the bed. “H-hey, Derek. This is a dream,” he tried. “You’re dreaming.”

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, but lifted the edge of the blanket.

Stiles didn’t even hesitate. He accepted the invitation and dove under the covers, allowing Derek to reel him in. He buried his face in the curve of Derek’s neck with a grateful moan as Derek curled an arm around his waist and pressed his nose into Stiles’ hair.

“Comfortable?” Derek murmured. He inhaled deeply and sighed.

Stiles hummed his contentment and smiled as he felt a ghost of a kiss on his forehead. He didn’t know why he had thought it was a good idea to stay with his dad. He hadn’t been able to sleep without Derek for nearly a year. Derek was a familiar presence of warmth and safety.

Sliding a hand up Derek’s bare chest, mapping out the hard curves and sculpted muscles, Stiles tilted his head back and stole Derek’s smirking lips in a lazy kiss, nibbling on his lower lip and tugging teasingly.

Derek rolled their bodies until he hovered over Stiles, supporting his weight on his forearms instead of crushing the squishy human, and Stiles appreciated it. His legs fell open, easily allowing Derek room to slot against his body as they continued to lazily make out.

“I thought you wanted to sleep,” Derek groaned, nipping at Stiles’ jaw.

Stiles whimpered softly, tilting his head to the side and offering his neck to his boyfriend, and the werewolf growled with pleasure at Stiles’ easy submission. Stiles dragged his hands through Derek’s hair letting his nails scratch lightly against his skull.

“Define sleep,” Stiles gasped as Derek’s teeth grazed his skin. His hips bucked against the firm body pinning him to the mattress. “Cause I’m pretty flexible with the definition, especially if it means you keep doing that with your t-tongue. Oh god. Come on, Der." Stiles whimpered. "Keep doing dirty things to me. Who needs sleep anyway. Totally overrated.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” And he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Sterek A-Z, weekly one word prompts, challenge being done on Tumblr with [isthatbloodonhisshirt](http://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


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